The weather conspires against me.
Holding back tears,
she’s so proud of me.
Hands at the small of my spine,
telling me it will be fine.
I can feel your gales,
watching me sleep.
That’s what you’re afraid of.
You kept me as yours.
I wasn’t allowed to share.
I never learned.
There is nothing more animate than the wind.
We can’t see it,
though it is there.
Dancing, yet soundless.
Shouting in a language no one is worthy enough to hear.
And there is nothing better than the raw palpability of being broken open,
and feeling the wind tousling your pages.
Its a wondrous thing,
like the taste of someone elses laughter in your mouth.